


A Toast

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Season 5 Menace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack seeks out Daniel after the events of "Menace."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Toast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuwdora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwdora/gifts).



Jack didn't really worry until the next afternoon. Daniel hadn't picked up either of his phones; Jack didn't leave a message. When he went out about nine to get a quart of milk and some eggs, he swung by Daniel's apartment, but the lights were out and Daniel's car was in the lot. That might or might not have meant Daniel was home. 

After most of the next day had gone by with no phone contact, and no Daniel showing up on his doorstep (which Jack thought was actually quite likely; he'd made extra coffee to cover that eventuality), Jack swung by his place again. This time he went upstairs. The paper was on the mat by the door. The place was silent inside. 

Jack went back out to his truck and thought about it. People were starting to drift back into the neighborhood; working hours were about over and it was Friday. 

Where was Daniel? 

They needed to talk. 

His intuition landed on a place, and he went with it. He might be wrong; he could check with Hammond to see if Daniel had asked for leave and taken a cab to the airport. He also had friends at the university in Denver he could have gone to visit. But he usually believed his intuition.

He drove four blocks and parked on the street in front of The Caffeinated Bookworm.

Upstairs, at the long bar in the back, Daniel sat with an empty mug and an open tome. Jack slid onto the stool beside him. 

Daniel's friend Alison was serving the coffee today, but she took one look at Jack's expression and brought out a half-empty bottle of scotch with two tumblers -- an item that definitely was not on the menu. The tumblers had dishwasher spots on them. Daniel hadn't budged or looked up, but Jack detected a certain stiffening of his demeanor.

He carefully poured a finger of liquor into each glass and gently pushed one over to Daniel. Daniel looked at it.

Jack sipped his at first, but then squeezed his eyes shut and downed it. He resisted the urge to overturn the glass and clap it down on the bar. He set it carefully upright, and put his open palms on his thighs, the whiskey's warm burn lingering in his chest. 

He glanced over. Daniel's glass was empty too. He'd taken off his glasses and was sitting very straight on his stool, his arms folded.

"No toast?" Daniel said to the mirror behind the counter. 

"I have no idea what we would toast to," Jack said quietly. 

"Our health, perhaps."

"Always a good choice."

Daniel turned to him, winding himself up. 

_Good,_ Jack thought. _Let me have it. Get it all out in the open._

Daniel actually opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it, dropped his chin, and after a moment, he put his glasses back on. Jack was surprised, but he waited. He could almost hear the conversation Daniel was having in his own head.

Finally Daniel turned to him; turned his whole body. "You're not going to back down," Daniel said. "Ever. You weighed the fact that I was making progress, that she was sentient, that we had a chance to heal her, to create an important ally, and you weighed all that and chose murder instead. And you're comfortable with that and no matter what I say you're not going to back down."

"Comfortable? No. I wouldn't say I'm comfortable." Jack, instead of relaxing now that Daniel was talking calmly instead of calling him names, tightened up. In a minute he might need another shot, actually. 

Daniel's voice was pitched only for Jack's ears, all but inaudible under the noise of the coffee machines. "Your bottom line was the replicators. That was it."

"Your analysis is correct, Doctor Jackson." That didn't get him even a shadow of a smile.

Jack turned away and poured them both a bit more scotch. This time he raised his glass.

"To agreeing to disagree," he said, and tilted his glass toward Daniel. Daniel picked up his own, and contemplated its amber depths for a moment. When he looked up, Jack saw, in his eyes, smashing glass, bullets, regret, and hopeless judgment. Then Daniel tapped his glass to Jack's, and they both drank again. Daniel looked as if he had swallowed poison.

Jack exhaled and set down his glass, and reached down and over and set his fist on Daniel's thigh. He was warm and real through the denim. Warm and real and alive. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
